When You Put Strong Women Down
For Aubrey
This is what remains
when you’ve pulled
every
living
thread from us
so each one lay ragged
and disconnected
in a field, let’s say,
waiting
for weather
to wear it thin,
for sharp hooves
of browsing deer to
press it into dark earth,
for groundhogs to piss on
as they scurry quickly
and afraid across a path,
for birds to scavenge
for nests in the spring
needing so many
for any strength
or integrity
at all
it seems.
This is what remains
when carelessly, you toss
these threads, let’s say,
on sidewalks
for heels to grind
into coarse concrete,
or for busses
to blow into the gutter
to wash away, drown
then dissolve
in the sewer, discarded,
leaving just the faint stench
of your mislaid judgement
behind.
This is what remains
when you pummel our spirit
into clay, a dull gray
beaten shapeless,
no longer strong, dark
and beautiful, no
longer a stark silhouette
filled with hope, the
sweet bright contrast
with what has always been,
no longer rising up,
no longer confident,
defiant, visionary
joyfully persistent
and lest we forget,
leading you.
This is what remains
when you are done
with us:
A dust so fine
you can’t even feel it
choking your souls.
The whole, the same,
the status quo,
the immense power
of an immovable center.
That which grows
when you beckon,
you demand
our silence.
This is what remains.
What you wanted all along
and could not admit.
Yet we recover.
We always do and leave you
now to starve,
malnourished
on the comfortable choices
you’ve made,
as we move
forward in our
loud,
audacious
indelible
unapologetic lives
slurping and spreading
a mess of trouble,
flinging our infinite
spirit in every direction,
making winners squirm,
calling out facades
and false truths,
using our bodies
to build mountain ranges
of dreams, hope, and a new
kind of power,
living every day –
in each breath we take –
the meaning we gave you
for one brief moment
when you felt alive
in this greater world,
when you called us
passionate
and admired our
courage
before you pulled us apart,
then ran back, terrified
yet righteous,
into that comfortable,
colorless muck.
By Suzan Erem
September 2023